


The Regular

by Patcho418



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shops, F/F, Fluff, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27979353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patcho418/pseuds/Patcho418
Summary: At any other job, the graveyard shift would be a nightmare. A condemnation for whichever poor soul got stuck working it.To Yang, at least at first, it was. Her favourite part of the job is getting to see people, talk to them, make them drinks with a quick word and a smile. No one would be coming in at midnight to get a coffee or a latte, and anyone who did was either on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion or in a rush to get out of there.Except for her regular.
Relationships: Weiss Schnee/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 12
Kudos: 46





	The Regular

**Author's Note:**

> For the [Freezerburn zine](https://twitter.com/freezerburnzine)!

At any other job, the graveyard shift would be a nightmare. A condemnation for whichever poor soul got stuck working it. 

To Yang, at least at first, it was. Her favourite part of the job is getting to see people, talk to them, make them drinks with a quick word and a smile. No one would be coming in at midnight to get a coffee or a latte, and anyone who did was either on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion or in a rush to get out of there.

Except for her regular. Weiss, or at least that’s what she’d always written on her cup. She’d always come in around 7 or 8 or whenever, order her regular insane drink that Yang had to write down to remember the first couple of times, and then do homework or something at one of the booths.

It had been about a month since she started coming in, and Yang can’t say she doesn’t enjoy the company. The night shift is so boring anyways, she’d hate to have to call it lonely, too. 

Weiss sits at her regular spot--the booth just near the window offering a view of the other students rushing to commute off-campus--with far too many papers and folders and pencils in front of her. Her brows are knitted in focus at her work, something Yang is maybe a little hesitant to break. 

Still, she has a job to do, and Weiss has a medium dirty chai latte with four shots of espresso, light foam, whip, and chocolate syrup on the bottom that she’s waiting for. Extra hot.

Yang brings it over to her with a chipper smile. “One ‘regular’ for Weiss?”

Weiss’ eyes lift from her work, blinking a few times before settling on the cup in Yang’s hand. “Oh. Right,” she says, reaching slowly for her drink. “Thank you.”

Yang nods, catching something fleeting in the darting of Weiss’ eyes between her work, her drink, and Yang herself. Her fingers curl around her cup tightly, Yang notices as well, and her breathing almost seems to steady. 

“I’m honestly quite surprised you remember,” Weiss notes, not looking away from her drink.

“Of course I do,” Yang says with a shrug. “I mean, it’s not everyday someone orders a medium dirty chai latte with four shots of espresso, light foam, whip, and chocolate syrup on the bottom.”

Weiss purses her lips. “But it is everyday. I’m literally here every day.”

Yang lets out an easy laugh. “And you’re the only person who ever orders it. At some point, a girl’s got to remember.”

That seems to draw Weiss’ gaze to her, and Yang catches that somberness in her eyes again. Anyone else would probably look around it, at Weiss’ admittedly fine features and pert nose and take her words at face value. Yang knows better.

Of course, Yang also knows better than to prod, to get a glimpse at the painful things people hide and instead offers Weiss a gentle smile as she returns to the bar to appear like she’s working.

But she doesn’t work, instead opting to watch Weiss for a moment as her eyes scan her homework, occasionally jotting down notes and taking a sip of her ridiculous beverage. She can’t help but feel a pang of something in her chest; whether it’s admiration at Weiss’ tenacity that she’s just now coming to realize, or whether it’s somberness at the way sleep clearly draws at her eyes only to be pulled away by sips of coffee, she can’t quite tell. Nevertheless, Yang can’t help but feel drawn to her one way or another.

And when Yang’s heart is drawn, her mouth follows.

“You’re in here a lot,” Yang comments kindly, her best attempt at breaking the ice.

Weiss stops and looks up and around the shop; seeing that she’s the only person here, she darts her attention back to Yang. “It’s a good place to study,” she replies. “I like the atmosphere.”

Yang smirks and steps around the counter, slyness playing in her features. “That, and I’m guessing no one else knows how to make a dirty chai latte with four shots of espresso, light foam, whip, and chocolate syrup on the bottom?” Then, with a saucy tilt of her eyebrows: “Extra hot?”

A dark blush flashes in Weiss’ cheeks for a moment, but she defiantly lifts her shoulders. “I suppose that’s _one_ draw of this place, yes.”

A gentle laugh escapes Yang’s lips at Weiss’ blush before she softens. Weiss regards her at first with a stubborn expression, and then she exhales. “I’ll admit, the company here is a draw, too.”

“Yeah?”

Weiss scoffs incredulously. “As _if_ I’m talking about you.”

Yang glances around at the empty stalls, booths, and bar, and lets out a snicker. “Right, the other company here’s real great.”

Weiss’ blush darkens, taking over more of her face. “Thank you for the drink, Yang. I should get back to studying.”

“What are you studying?”

Weiss pauses for a moment, somewhat taken aback by the sudden inquiry and the innocence with which Yang asks it. She looks up at her with a slight air of surprise, and Yang smiles innocently at her. She looks between the papers in front of Weiss and Weiss’ puzzled expression, wondering if maybe she should probably _actually_ let her get back to her studies.

Somehow, though, Weiss acquiesces. “Business. I can’t say it’s exactly my area of interest, but it’s apparently what I’m good at.”

“Sounds like total b.s. to me,” Yang comments, earning her a sharp gasp from Weiss.

“Hey! I am good at it!”

Yang pulls her hands back and raises them defensively--okay, maybe sometimes she’s a little blunt. “No, no, I don’t doubt you’re good at it! I just meant...why study for it if it’s not what you want to do?”

Weiss’ gaze falls for a second, and Yang catches the somberness in it once more. Maybe she’s asking too many questions. Maybe she should just go back to standing at the bar pretending to work for the cameras. Maybe Weiss won’t want to come back here if she keeps prodding.

But Weiss doesn’t leave, doesn’t run, doesn’t shield herself or mask her true intentions. She pouts defiantly, her eyes still fixed on her work. “My father wanted me to. He said someone in the family had to keep the family business going, and I could attend any school in the city I wanted as long as it was for business. I can’t quite say that my sister was enthused by his decision, so it’s my job now.”

Her words are direct, almost like they’ve been rehearsed countless times before and now she’s finally getting the chance to speak them to someone else. Yang wonders how long she’s been sitting on this, how long she’s had to keep these feelings silent. 

How isolated and hurt she must feel, Yang wonders.

“So it is b.s.,” Yang says, and Weiss huffs at that.

“It sure is.”

Yang purses her lips. “And I guess that’s why you like it here. It’s not home, is it?”

“Yup.”

There’s a taught silence between them as Yang sits with Weiss’ words, digesting the meaning behind her continuous presence at this little coffee shop and her regular order and why it’s much better than being at home. It’s another thing Yang’s used to, the knowledge that family isn’t always perfect. Sometimes it’s not even there. For some people, it might be better that way.

It certainly must be for Weiss.

Yang slides into the booth and sits opposite Weiss, linking her fingers together. “You can stay here until I have to close up, if you need. Do you have a ride home?”

Weiss blinks. “No, I bus.”

“Do you want a ride home instead? I’ve got my bike--”

“There is _no_ way a bike can fit two people,” Weiss accuses.

“My _motorcycle,_ Weiss,” Yang retorts with a laugh. 

“Oh.” Weiss pauses to consider the offer, and then gives her a small nod. “If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

Yang shrugs. “Not one bit. I like showing my bike off to cute girls.” Her cheeks flare with heat for a split second, but she wears as confident a grin as she can muster after having done such a bold move.

It pays off, if only slightly, as the comment draws pink into Weiss’ cheeks and she averts her gaze from Yang for a moment. “Do you show many cute girls your motorcycle.”

“Sometimes,” Yang says, “just not recently.”

Weiss giggles, and the lightness of it causes Yang’s heart to skip a beat. “I can’t tell you how much my father would hate to see me getting a ride home on a motorcycle with another woman.” There’s a devilish tone to her words, a hint of rebellion, and she peers just enough for Yang to catch that same rebellion glinting in her eyes.

“I guess it’s a date,” Yang comments playfully.

Weiss nods and takes another sip of her drink, her gaze lingering in Yang’s for a beat longer than it has all night, and when she dips her attention back to her work she does so with a smirk that sends Yang’s heart racing.

Whoever said the night shift is a drag is clearly crazy, Yang thinks. Or maybe they didn’t have a cute regular like she does.


End file.
